


Annoying

by Lady_Elwing



Category: Charloe - Fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Pre Blackout memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 12:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10360122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Elwing/pseuds/Lady_Elwing
Summary: After the fall of his republic, and after years of fighting the Patriots (slightly AU in this regard), Bass is haunted by memories of his family, before the blackout. His growing attachment for Charlie, and his thoughts about Connor and Miles remind him of the home that he has kept locked in his memory for years now. Are those memory good? Do they help him understand what direction he should take? Definitely Charloe... but mostly centered on Bass.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9091594) by [Loveforthestory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveforthestory/pseuds/Loveforthestory). 



Annoying. That was the word that he often used to describe his family. Mom was nagging him to be careful, to eat more because his bones were showing, to wear that stupid scarf because it would grow cooler in the evening. Cynthia prattling on about her ex BFF or her soon to be ex boyfriend, or that new boy in class, or whatever was on her mind without any filter. Angie was quieter, almost soothing, except when she would get on his nerves every time she started a rant against the illegal invasion of Iraq. Yes, precocious Angela had decide she was a pacifist. Too bad for her older brother the US marine. It certainly made the dinner table a lively place.

What’s was the song? If he listened hard enough, if he blocked out this world, he could hear Angie’s sweet soft voice. “And brother, can't you see  
This is not the way we put an end to war“ Gentle Angie, loving Angela. He was glad she wasn’t around to see what had become of him. And what would have become of her. War was unescapable, it always was before the blackout and even more after.

Every time he was on leave, he would run back home to his folks. The first days would be heaven : waking up to the smell of coffee and toast, hearing the girls getting ready for school, dad’s commentary on the morning news and mom talking on the phone. But as soon as he was three days in, he would already be growing restless. He’d call Miles and hang out with the Mathesons, or with whatever girl he was involved with.

And then they died. Just like that.. Gone forever. He was left with guilt. All kind of guilt : survivor guilt, distracted brother, son who’d rather chase tail and hang out with his buddy than stay at home. So many reason to blow up his brain. He used to call them annoying…

He stared into his glass. He had no idea why he was thinking about them tonight. It had been a while, a very long time since he had allowed himself to remember their faces and voices. They were still here, they would never leave in a way… But they were gone. Just like Shelly, and the little one. And he was still here, really here. Pieces of them were patched over his gaping wounds, his skin mingling with theres. There was only silence left.

He lifted his gaze to look at his son. He was a man who had grown up far away from him. Yet, sometimes, in the twinkle of his eyes he saw Cin, in his quiet moments Angie… And Dad, and Mom. All of them. It was in his blood, and yet he was a complete stranger.

Someone sat down next to him, drawing him out of his warm cocoon of thoughts, reminding him that the past was indeed behind. He looked at Charlie who wasn’t even looking at him.

“What do you want?“ He didn’t mean the words to come out so harshly, but Charlie was constantly hovering, like a mosquito. Never giving him a moment of respite. Always, there. She’d leave hints, here and there, words or glances or soft touches but she left him hanging, hoping for more but never daring to make a real move.

“Hi Charlotte, nice to see that you aren’t dead. Thanks for saving my skin.“ drawled Charlie. She took another sip. He couldn’t help but wonder how many she had drunk. She did have a point : she saved his life early today and he hadn’t even thanked her. Since when did they thank each other for having each other’s back?

“Hi Charlotte, why the hell are you bothering me? One Monroe isn’t enough for you?“ Her eyes met his. He saw a flash of something akin to hurt but it was replaced by a glare.

“Don’t flatter yourself.“

They were drinking silently again. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more : the fact that she had spoken to him or that she was silent now. She stood up again. He kept his gaze on his glass, he didn’t want her to leave now, but he sure wasn’t going to tell her so. She was already growing too cocky over the fact that she could get a rise out of him without losing her head. 

If only she knew.   
If only she had heard Cin teasing him or Angela singing anti-war protest song when he was trying to nurse a killer hangover. They’d be relentless… Because they knew Bass was just Bass. They’d laugh at his silly threats, as mom used to call them. They’d laugh. If only she knew, he wasn’t only the monster the others saw. There was someone else, a forgotten face, that had been beloved to so many and a heart that had loved far too much for his own good. Would it even matter to her, if she knew? Did it even matter to him? Or it was better to keep on going, fighting Patriots and hanging in there. She must know something… Didn’t she forgive him? Or at least, stopped trying to kill him, and saving his skin instead. Fighting side by side, back to back, had somehow made them grow into comrades, brothers in arms… Friends. And from friends, it was going somewhere else. Somewhere, he wasn’t even sure he could go, or she could handle.

She came back, with a fresh drink and a guy following her. Bass looked up, his gaze lethal, and peered at the man. Charlotte always had puppies following her around, She was never shy about putting them back in their place or leading them where he wanted to take them, She was Charlie Matheson after all. But it would do wonder to his mood to get rid of this loser who had no business sniffing around Charlotte’s heels. 

He knew she could take care of herself. He knew it better than anyone but it didn’t change the fact that she was his responsibility, just as Connor or Miles were. Family. The people you vow to protect from this cesspool called life. Family. It was a word that stuck to his throat lately but it didn’t mean it didn’t have a sacred place in his heart.

The man stood behind Charlie’s chair, his greasy hand still on her arm, hovering but not daring to sit down. 

“Oh don’t worry about him. He doesn’t bite.“ Charlie rolled her eyes. The stranger paled under Bass’ gaze that said otherwise, his attention shifted to Charlie. He noticed that she was keeping her body away from the guy, not touching him, her eyes on Bass only. He shot another look at the guy, yes loser, the rumors are true I am General Sebastian Monroe. The guy blinked and his complexion started to turn green.

“I’ll talk to you later…“ And he was gone. Bass bit back a dark laugh. Well, he wouldn’t have survived long with Charlotte. That was too easy.

“You didn’t have to scare him off.“

“Really? Then why did you bring him here?“ He cocked his head as he spoke. He could see her face relaxing into an almost smile that she shook off. She sank back into her drink, not caring to answer his question. She knew that he knew. Charlotte wasn’t silly or lacking brain cells. When she did something, it was most of the time deliberate. 

In the distance, he saw Connor smiling at a girl. She looked kind and with soft green eyes. Good. This is what he wanted for Connor. He didn’t need to be tangled in the Matheson web, he didn’t need to be immersed in the force of nature that was Charlotte, not when his father was already knee deep into it.

“Jealous?“ He nodded his head to Connor. Charlotte followed his gaze and shrugged.

“Why would I? Was just useful when I needed to scratch an itch.“ and her eyes found his, once more, sweltering, burning holes into his own eyes. It was still there, it had always been there ever since they had met., this thing he couldn’t even name. Those eyes followed him everywhere, those eyes sometimes woke him up from slumber. 

“Glad that my son helped you get over that itch.“ His voice was so low, it was a rumble coming from his chest. He was surprised she could hear him.

“It only worked just this once.“ He had to strain his ears to hear her. She wasn’t looking away, he couldn’t escape her gaze. He couldn’t keep his body from reacting to her words. His hands itching to feel her skin under them. He was dimly aware of someone pulling a chair.

“I’m so trashed.“ Miles always had excellent timing. He was slurring his words, his face cradled in his hands. The spell was broken. Charlotte’s attention was on Miles as she scolded him. He had women trouble, of course, who wouldn’t when you had a thing for the greatest bitch of them all? Add to the mix Miles’ never ending story with feisty Nora. It wasn’t new. Miles had always been a wreck when it came to relationships. 

“Not going to solve anything.“ Her voice was normal again. “You really need to make a decision Miles. It’s not fair to Nora.. Nor.. I can’t believe I’m saying this, to Rachel.“ There was still venom when she spoke about her mother, Bass couldn’t blame her. He was surprised that Connor tolerated him more than Charlotte did her mother. But then again, Charlotte had always been smart. And his boy was probably following his dad’s footsteps into plain stubborn stupidity. Damn it. He needed to be at least as drunk as Miles was. 

Miles’ grunt was enough of a reply. Bass shook his head, it wasn’t a good sign. He remembered well enough the many times Miles was equally drunk because of Rachel. Miles withdrawing from his older brother, because of Rachel. Miles living his life on the edge, because of damn Rachel. Miles postponing his existence, because of Rachel. 

“Not fair to Nora, probably. But Rachel? She damn well deserves it.“

Miles looked up and made a face, but Charlotte just shrugged. She wasn’t going to defend Rachel. She was pretty close to Nora, and she wasn’t blinded by her mother’s act. No fake loyalties for Charlotte Matheson. She was who she was, and she loved whom she wanted. It’s that free spirit that drew him in, wanting to follow her anywhere she went. Foolish old man.

The trio didn’t speak again. They only needed a campfire and it would be just another day in their lives. The patriots had been springing from all cities and behind all trees, none of their grand plans worked. At this point, most would say it was useless to try to fight off the patriots. Hell, president Monroe himself would have conceded defeat and found a way to turn it to his advantage. But Bass Monroe couldn’t stop fighting. None of them could. What would be left? Live under the shadows of the Patriots. Always looking over their shoulders. Always hearing people whispering about the Monroe Monster who had launched nuclear bombs on innocent people. His name, his family’s name, was tarnished forever. Thanks for these khaki wearing morons. But sometimes, like tonight, he could feel lassitude in his bones. Fight, fight and fight. Once upon a time, there had been life. Breakfast tables, keys under the doormat and hushed laughter. 

Connor had pulled away from his girl and was coming towards their table. Connor and his impossible demands. Was it so hard to be a parent? Did he ever ask his parents to sacrifice themselves for him? Sacrifice what was left of them? They would have… He knew it, without a doubt. But what kind of child asked this of his parents? This one, his brat, did and with absolutely no shame. He was a Monroe, alright. He was his son : no doubts about it.

From Connor, his gaze drifted to the two Mathesons immersed into themselves. He’d lose them if he took the road his son was adamant about. It was over even before it begun. He knew what would happen if he got it all back, and what would happen to Connor. No, it was a stupid idea. He’d lose everything he had and even if it wasn’t much, it was everything.

“Who died? Is this a wake?“ Connor’s face was alight compared to them. He took everything lightly, like it didn’t really matter. He must had gotten over Emma, or at least he didn’t show it to him. They were flesh and blood, and yet strangers. Who would let the other one in, first?

“Shut up“ snapped Miles, as Charlie stood up to get another drink. They were all going to wake up hating themselves. Connor said something else that Bass didn’t register. His gaze was following her. She was like a talisman against thoughts that brought him back to the past or his fears about the future. She rooted him here and now. Made him glad to be here. He could’t get enough of her.

“… You really got it bad.“ Connor was laughing. Bass turned to look at his son. He was mildly surprised that his boy wasn’t so blind. Miles, on the other hand… Bass’ gaze flickered to his best friend but he didn’t seem to have registered what Connor had just said.

“Really obvious.“ added Connor with a twinkle in his eyes. Did he have to look like Cynthia while mentioning Charlotte? 

“Do you need something, Connor?“ He tried to keep his voice from showing too much emotion. He had never been good at hiding his feelings. His emotions were always too much too handle, to hide behind a facade : he wasn’t Miles. He had managed to do it for some years as president but in the end, it got the better of him. No more.

“Just saying…“

“Still chit-chatting, Bennett?“ Charlotte was back with a full pint of beer. She brushed past Connor to sit down, Bass clenched his jaw. Some things were really better forgotten.

“.. Well. I’m getting laid. So good night guys!“ Drunk Connor was the most annoying thing in the world. He sounded almost chirpy. Charlotte was making a face. He would have taunted her about her escapade with a Monroe if Miles hadn’t been half drooling, half snoring, next to them. 

“We should get him to bed.“ She pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Which one?“ He smirked and he was glad when she smiled back. Having Miles’ back had been the thing that brought them in the same ranks. Miles who would throw a fit if he knew how close they were growing.

“My couch will do.“ She offered, and he nodded. They helped Miles out of his chair, out of the bar and into the street. It took them a while to get to Charlie’s place. Miles wanted them to let him go to Nora’s, and Rachel’s five minutes later, and then Nora again. He was mumbling about Emma. Bass just wanted him to shut up. Miles could hold his drink, when he wanted to. He was a functioning alcoholic. But there were nights, such as these, when Miles became… well he became like his father. He was hoping he wouldn’t become mean like Mr Matheson tonight, Charlie had been thrown enough trash on for a lifetime. She didn’t need to know about the Mathesons family’s skeletons, she already had her own ghosts to deal with.

Thankfully, as soon as he was dumped on the couch, Miles was asleep. Charlie covered him with a blanket, his feet sticking out.

“Want a drink?“

“yeah,“ they heard Miles snore loudly, “outside?“ 

She nodded and they took the bottle outside. They sat on the steps leading to the porch. The night was full of flagrance, summer was in the air.

“He’ll be asleep till morning. And then.. well good luck.“ Bass knew his brother better than anyone. He knew how to handle Miles at his worst. Charlotte shrugged.

“I’ll be fine. He really should do something about this.. whatever thing with Nora and Rachel.“

“I bet Nora is going to leave pretty soon. She really likes Miles but she doesn’t take shit. Never had. Rachel, on the other hand, is all about games.“ Was he really babbling about Miles’ women problem? 

Charlotte nodded and took a sip from the bottle. She passed it to him, their fingers brushing. He glanced at her, she looked tired and too young to be this exhausted. He wanted to conjure back the Charlie from the bar, the one who had been on the brink of confirming what he already knew. He gave her back the bottle, this time she covered her hand with his for a mere second, before grabbing the bottle.

“Charlotte.“ He whispered her name. He didn’t want to be the first to open up. Did she think he was so eager to let her in his world, to let the walls drop? He had news for her, he had seen and done far worse than she had. His armor was tougher than hers.

“Sebastian.“ It made him smile. It was a change from Bass, Monroe or moron. 

“Thanks for the save,“ he offered. She lit up.

“You’re the one always saving me. I should be the one thanking you. It was high time I returned the favor.“ 

“You don’t have to.“ She furrowed his brow so he continued, “to thank me.“ They were silent once more. It was always the same thing between them, so many things unsaid, so many things whispered by their eyes. It was hard to say things, to make his mouth move. It had been so long, too long. He felt old, and awkward but he had to say it :

“But you know that.“ His voice was lower when he continued, “I’ve got your back.“ She wasn’t looking at him. He felt her hand grasp his.

“And I got yours,“ she whispered back. He laced his fingers with hers. He felt like a teenager who was holding hands with a girl for the first time. It was silly, really. Hadn’t he had countless girlfriends, lovers… unknown women? And she was no shy unexperienced girl either. Hours ago, they had been fighting for their life, covered in blood and muck… but here they were. When was the last time he had felt almost giddy?

He felt guilty for thinking about Shelly right now, but she had been the last woman he had truly cared for. He couldn’t risk it again, could he? He had forgotten about her enchanting laugh, until tonight, all he had kept was the piercing agony of losing her. Buried was that joy, that ephemeral bliss, damn… He had been so young. So young. And tonight he felt young again. Was he foolish enough to do it again?

Charlie was still not looking at him. Her gaze was drawn upward to the moon, and the stars glimmering in its wake. This was the best thing that had happened because of the blackout : there wasn’t enough pollution to cover the night sky. It was only in the desert that he had seen so many stars. Now, people barely gazed at them; taking for granted something that had become a rarity in the pre blackout world.

Just as he took for granted that Charlotte would always be there… Just within his grasp. That night in New Vegas, seeing her with Connor had made his heart skip a beat and his blood boil. He had once more taken someone for granted. He should have known better.

He couldn’t find the words to tell her what he couldn’t even let himself feel. He felt her stir but she still kept her hand in his. 

“I heard you’re planning to leave.“ Her voice held a tremor but she went on, “to build a new republic.“ It wasn’t a question, just a statement. He didn’t know what to answer. He wasn’t baiting Connor but the truth was he didn’t want to go through it again. It would have been different with his son by his side, he was sure of it. But could he do it again?

“I’m at peace with what happened. I had to, for myself.“ She didn’t name them but he could hear the names loud and clear, he had memorized them as if they were his own family : Ben, Danny and Maggie. “But if you go back to that.. I’ll hunt you down.“ Her hand was grasping his harder as if she wanted to snap his bones, “And I’ll kill you.“ Her voice wasn’t soft anymore, it was the voice of Mini-Miles, the girl who had to become a soldier because of his republic. She was fierce and magnificent.

In the silver moonlight he could see that her eyes were shining with an awaken determination. She was angry at him. She was angry he was leaving. With his other hand he gently turned her face so she would look at him.

“Charlotte.“ She glared at him but he went on, trying to keep his voice gentle, “I don’t want it.. that damn republic I don’t. But Connor…“

“Is a moron?“ She disparaged. 

“I had to promise him something to get him out of there. I.. don’t want it. I promise.“

“What are you promises worth?“ She had cocked her head and he could taste the bitterness in her voice. The spell was once more broken. Her hand was still holding his as if he was some kind of lifeline. She was his lifeline, there was no doubt about it. Her eyes were no longer offering him solace. He could always depend on her for serving him the truth on a silver platter. The least he could was return the favor and say the truth.

“Nothing. I got nothing, Charlotte. Why the else would he want to stick around? I’ve got nothing.“ He repeated. He did feel empty, useless. Without his republic he had nothing to offer to Connor. Nothing to lure him to stay with them. He didn’t even have anything to offer to her. Nothing but silly little feelings and weak promises that didn’t mean much coming from him.

“I hate her… Rachel. I left her many times and I’ll keep on leaving her. But she’s family. You don’t need to have to give something to your family to keep them.“ At that moment she was all Ben Matheson. Most of the time she was Miles, a sprinkle of Rachel and a fiery core of Charlie Matheson. “Except for respect.“ She was looking at him directly, her face open and vulnerable and her eyes, once more, glittering. He had seen Rachel Matheson changing her attitude towards her daughter, inch by inch. It would take a lifetime. And the woman didn’t deserve Charlie’s patience.

“When you love someone, it’s enough. You don’t need to buy them off.“ Charlie Matheson, the brat, Miles’ child was giving him a lesson about love. And she was right. Once upon a time, he had been good in love. He had known how it worked, hell, he was a natural. Seems like an eternity away. Charlie was still fresh, covered with dew and blossoms. She didn’t know that sometimes love wasn’t enough. Did she? Maybe she did. Maybe. His eyes could not leave her eyes, taking in the softness, the hardness but also the pain and the rage she kept inside. Charlotte Matheson, all whole and patched up. She had her share of scars and hard lessons, but she was still fighting with all her might.

“Do you want it back? I mean.. You? Not for Connor, not because you’re scared of my crossbow. You. Do you want it?“ There was urgency in her voice, she looked away as if she wanted to give him privacy to decide. She was right, genius Matheson. What did he want? Did he want the Republic again? Smoothly working… Or living in the bleak existence where every day could be the last. But wasn’t this what life was anyways? He closed his eyes. What did he want? Revenge? A lifetime of hunting them, those who had made him the culprit of their own crimes? What did he want?

He opened his eyes again, looking up to the sky and those stars far beyond anyone’s reach. His thoughts went back to his family. He wanted that. There was a surge deep within him, a dam breaking. He wanted to belong, again. He wanted to have a family, to wake up tomorrow and know that his whole life since he lost them had only been a passing nightmare.To have this, this thing Charlotte was talking about. He didn’t want people to stick around because they were scared or wanted something out of him. He wanted to be enough. Enough for Connor, enough for Miles, enough For Charlie… Enough for himself.

He’d lose Charlie, and Miles…Even Stay Puft. He’d lose all of them. And Connor? He knew what power did to people, he knew it firsthand. No, the truth was, Connor wouldn’t stick around either. And he will be once more trapped under a uniform with people he didn’t care about depending on him and no one to come home to. He’d fail them all.

“No.“ He let out a breath of relief. He really didn’t want it. The Republic was his own monster, his nightmare come true, his snake. Charlie’s hand was still grasping his hand. And he was the one holding on for dear life. No he didn’t want it, ever again. He had lied to Connor. 

They were silent again, hand in hand, looking at the stars. He could hear Miles cursing in his sleep. It was only an eternity later that he heard Charlotte speak again,

“… I’m glad I won’t have to kill you. It’d be a shame.“

Miles let out another loud snore and Charlotte stifled a giggle. He look at her face : Charlie Matheson never giggled. She was looking at him with a strange glint in her eyes. Was she looking at his lips? She leaned forward, her other hand hovering over his face, her fingers brushing his cheek. For the life of him, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even let out a breath as she crept closer and her lips were brushing against his. He received her soft kiss, his lips parting as he kissed her back. He was on the edge. Another kiss, another fluttering caress and no snoring Miles would stop him. He pulled away.

Charlie looked over her shoulder,  
“He’s not going to wake up, is he?“

“Miles? No. He could sleep through an AC/DC concert.“ Once more, she had no idea what he was talking about. Nor did she know he knew how soundly drunk Miles slept because of his personal experience…. He looked away as he thought about Emma. She stood up and pulled him along.

“Come on.“ He knew she was taking him to her bedroom. They had been circling this moment for months if not years. There was nothing to stop them now. He kept her gaze in his. Except, he didn’t want to.

“Charlotte…“

“Right.“ She instantly lost that spark from her eyes and dropped his hand. He pulled her closer, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“That’s not what I meant.“ 

She shrugged impatiently. In the way her eyes were narrowed and her cheeks slightly flushed, he could see that she was offended. 

“I want this.. You. Charlotte. But I don’t want it to start this way.“ There was a loud bang and the snores were momentarily hushed. Miles must have rolled off the couch. He waited a few seconds and once more they could hear that he was still asleep. 

“Not when Miles is sleeping on your couch. Not just for tonight.“ She sighed loudly, pulling away but he tightened his grip and kept his eyes in hers, “I want the real thing.. I can’t…“ He trailed off, his voice was coming off too soft. It was too soon to let her in, too soon to even show her this face, and beyond late for him. He took a deep breath and spoke again,

“I want you… But I’m not going to be your dirty secret.“ He had been Emma’s dirty little secret, and a countless number of girls had loved to have him as their bad boy, the one they never introduced to their parents. He was used to it. Hell, he even enjoyed it. Not anymore. Not with Charlotte. He loosened his grip. She stood still, her gaze wandering away from his face. She didn’t speak for a few minutes. They must have looked ridiculous, Face to face, yet keeping their eyes averted. He clearly had lost his touch, but she hadn’t. His whole body was on fire, it took a lot out of him to keep himself in check.

He needed this. He wasn’t going to be discarded like Connor, or any of the others. He wasn’t sure he could take it. He must be growing too old for this kind of shit. In fact, until now he hadn’t even truly considered giving romance or whatever it was, another chance. It had been over for him, for far too long. Yes, there had been heated looks, lust… But this, the real thing, him and Charlotte? That was new.

More terrifying than building a new republic.

She was chewing her lip. It made him feel self-conscious. Of course he was asking a lot. He was Sebastian Monroe, he was responsible for so many bad things, even her family’s passing. If the tables had turned and he had to overcome all this? He couldn’t understand how she found it in herself to forgive him. After the accident, he had tracked down the bastard who had killed his whole family. If it wasn’t for Miles… He sighed and peered at Charlie. She really did know how to make a man feel insignificant. Her gaze was once more in his, and there was a softness in her eyes. She wasn’t smiling but her whole face was glowing.

“Okay. Let’s give this a shot… But we can’t tell the others until we’re sure.“ 

He nodded as he leaned forward to kiss her again. He pulled her against him, her body soft and warm. It took all his willpower to pull away. If it wasn’t for Miles… And the memories of Emma so willing, only when Miles had his back turned, he would have gone for it. She was drawing him in, with every glance and every breath, but he wanted to take his time. Charlotte deserved all the time in the world.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlotte.“

He left her on her porch. Perhaps it was better to go for a swim. The cold water was his only solace. It was dawn when he finally decide to dry himself and head home. The birds were chirping loudly. He could see movement behind the curtained windows. Soon it would be time for respectable people to start their day. He would sleep until someone came to get him, and yell about missing an important meeting about the next OP.

He usually barely glanced at these quaint cabins but today he was lingering. He knew that this one had a full family in it. A hardy pair of parents and three to four rowdy children. Their yard, if one can call this little patch of grass, always noisy and full of chaos. He hadn’t ever longed for a happy life behind a white picket fence but this morning he was mesmerized. 

Would Charlotte want that? She was probably too young to start to long for some peace. But her eyes often seemed vary after a battle. He had seen her become quiet after they had had dealt with survivors and the injured. She’d outdrink Miles and just be quiet. Maybe take someone to her little one bedroom house, but she would mostly be quiet. Perhaps, she was beginning to understand that there won’t ever be any true victory. You carried the ghosts of unknown men and women under your skin, whether you chose to acknowledge them or not.

He noticed someone opening the washed out blue curtains, it was time to head home. He started to walk again, still thinking about Charlotte. He couldn’t even understand what he was longing for, now. Hadn’t it always been what he had wanted? At least, since the blackout. Shelly. He sighed, Charlie was not Shelly. Charlie was born for the fight, she was iron and blood. She wouldn’t stop fighting until she couldn’t anymore.

He opened his door, he never bothered to lock it. Nobody even dared to knock when he was around, other than the usual gang. A nightcap, at the crack of dawn, was what he needed.

The drink tasted like ashes. What he would give for mom’s toasts and coffee. She always added a dollop of butter… Dad would complain, talk about cholesterol. But she loved those farmers’ markets. She’d always bring home a big ball of butter, and made her own bread. He peered out of his window, he could see the sherif cross the street under the already brazen sun. It was going to be a hot day. 

Someone, maybe Stay Puft, had mentioned something about cows. Maybe that family behind the blue curtains were having toasts and butter. People had become good at cooking without any power. His own staff in Independence Hall had always managed to make quite a feast. He’d give it all for just one morsel of mom’s toasts. But even his empire of dirt was long gone. 

Mom. Gail. Why were she plaguing his thoughts? His meddling mom who kept on telling him that one day he would have to settle down. Not right now, one day. He stood watching the small town come to life as he wondered at what age his mother would have started to nag him for grandchildren. Maybe, by then, Emma would have told him about Connor. Maybe he would have raised him. Maybe.

He was growing old. It was perhaps time to leave this town and.. No, he couldn’t leave. Charlotte and Miles. And those washed out blue curtains. Maybe he’d learn how to make butter, and toast. Charlie would love that, she always had a healthy appetite. Maybe they’d have kids. She’d head out with Miles, he’d stay here.. With their kids. Or the cows. Whatever. General Sebastian Monroe milking a bunch of cows. And she’ll come back, wounded, tired and sore. He’d worry for her and yell at her for putting herself in danger. A nice happy domestic life. He was losing it. He was becoming worse than Miles.. Becoming way too soft. Was it old age? No, he needed to keep on fighting, it was the only way he knew how to live.

It was late, or too early, he needed to sleep. 

He woke up with the sound of Angie and Cynthia roaring with laughter. Home. The water was seeping, rushing through what was left from his carefully built dam. More holes had been punctured in the thick concrete, a structure that had survived the blackout and even the aftermath of Miles’ grand departure. Someone was banging against his door. Usually, it was Cin who desperately needed him to drop her to some stupid dinner or an unsupervised party. Usually, a long time ago. He groaned.

“Go away.“

“Are you still asleep?“ Charlotte sounded like she had been up for a while now. She came in with the sunshine, holding a chipped mug. He should really get his lock fixed. 

“Everyone’s waiting for you. Sloane has some big news about the patriots.“ She handed him the mug, it smelt heavenly. Freshly brewed coffee. Charlotte had her way to find the best supplies. He had barely taken a sip when he heard Connor’s voice :

“Good afternoon!“

How could everyone be so perky in the morning? It didn’t matter if it were the afternoon. He must have gotten that from Emma. Or from Cynthia. 

“Coffee!!!“ Connor took the mug from his hand, forcing Bass to get out of bed to take it back. He noticed Charlotte glancing at his bare chest. Well, they were lucky he had forgotten to take off his jeans when he went bed. He managed to steal back his mug and take a big gulp of bitter coffee. Miles joined the party.

“Still in bed grandma?“

“Just got him out,“ informed him Charlotte.

“Why didn’t he get a bucket of water?“

Charlie laughed at him, “he didn’t keep me up all night snoring and yelling in his sleep.“ She was smiling when she turned to look at Bass. Miles’ snores were going down in their mutual history as something romantic, others had birds singing when they first kiss or music… They had Miles’ snores.

Miles was grumbling something about Charlotte dropping something in the early morning and giving him a heart attack : he thought one of his lovers was coming to kill him.

They were all so loud. Try as he might, he had never managed to become a morning person. General Monroe would have ordered them all out, without blinking. But Bass, Bass was just silently drinking in their bright voices and tired yet bright faces. They were terribly annoying, getting in his space. Barging in, even before he had washed the sleep out of his face and body. Talking, laughing, belonging in his house as if he had invited them in. He hadn’t.

He shook his head. Charlotte was sprawled on the clean shirt he had left on his chair, Connor stole once more his coffee and Miles was calling him names for staring into space and wasting everyone’s time. He dug out another shirt and looked up from the chest of drawers. Charlotte was now wrestling the mug out of Connor’s hands, spilling the precious coffee on his rackety furniture, both of them laughing like idiots. Miles was leaning against the wall, yawning, so much for pretending he was in better shape than he was. They were annoying as hell. 

Who knew what was going to happen in the coming days : would Connor leave once he realized there wouldn’t be any republic? Would Miles kill him when he found out about Charlie? Would Charlie leave once he had disappointed her? People come and go, that much he knew. The rest… There was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing.

He poured out some water in the basin and splashed his face. He will need to fill up his jug from the well or the river, later today, if these idiots gave him some space.

One day, they’ll all be gone, but right now, they were just gloriously annoying. He had retrieved his mug, he was sipping the tepid beverage as he followed them out of his house. Miles was talking about Sloane and sending more men and women to attack a Patriot camp, Charlie and Connor adding their salt to the mix. They passed in front of the blue curtained window. He could see the family having a meal on the table. Family. Yes, these three annoying idiots were his family. And that was all that he had left.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather nervous about posting this.... It's hard to write from Bass' POV, to find that balance between his ruthless side, and the man we've seen happy with Shelly. I like to believe that at some point he would be able to find his way back to being Bass and having more simple hopes. Nothing is ever definite I guess. This is a stand alone piece but if I were continuing it, I could go either way : Bass settling down or Bass staying on his warrior's path. Or something between both scenarios? 
> 
> Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it. It started with a desire to write about the Monroe family, and then falling back into the wonder that is Bass Monroe.
> 
> I also feel it's important to mention that while the idea of this story was growing in my mind, I was reading Loveforthestory' s fanfic Memories and others... so I'm pretty sure I was inspired by her works. I love her stories. And although my story is different, I was lost in the atmosphere of her stories when I wrote mine.


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